Today, the Senate Intelligence Committee will begin questioning Air Force Gen. Michael Hayden, nominated to be director of the Central Intelligence Agency, about the National Security Agency's collection of U.S. citizens' telephone records.

The scrutiny of the NSA is deserved, but the Senate and the American public may be missing a broader and more disturbing development. For the first time since the Civil War, the United States has been designated a military theater of operations. The Department of Defense -- which includes the NSA -- is focusing its vast resources on the homeland. And it is taking an unprecedented role in domestic spying.

It may be legal. But it circumvents three decades of efforts by Congress to restrict government surveillance of Americans under the guise of national security. And it represents a profound shift in the role of the military operating inside the United States. What's at stake here is the erosion of the principle, embedded in the 1878 Posse Comitatus Act, that the U.S. military not be used for domestic law enforcement.

When the administration declared the United States to be a theater of military operations in 2002, it created a U.S. Northern Command, which set up intelligence centers in Colorado and Texas to analyze the domestic threat. But these are not the military's only domestic intelligence efforts. According to the Congressional Research Service, the Pentagon controls "a substantial portion" of U.S. national intelligence assets, the traditional turf of the FBI and CIA.

In 2003, Congress created the job of undersecretary of Defense for intelligence to oversee the department's many intelligence bodies -- including a new entity called Counterintelligence Field Activity, or CIFA.

CIFA was ordered to maintain a "domestic law-enforcement database" on "potential terrorist threats" to U.S. military installations, and it began collecting information on U.S. citizens.

In 2005, a presidential commission suggested that CIFA, set up as a clearinghouse for information, be empowered to conduct domestic investigations into crimes such as treason, espionage and terrorism. Astoundingly, the commission declared that such an expansion of military powers would not require congressional approval; a presidential order and Pentagon directive would suffice. One Defense Department program feeding information to CIFA is TALON (Threat and Local Observation Notice), which is supposed to obtain data from "concerned citizens and military members regarding suspicious incidents" that could herald terrorist attacks. But the military appears to have interpreted its mandate broadly. A TALON report was filed on a protest against "war profiteering" by Halliburton, Newsweek reported. The protesters alleged the defense contractor overcharged for food for U.S. troops in Iraq.

Counterintelligence reports were also filed on New York University's OUTlaw, a decades-old organization of openly gay law students. "The term 'outlaw' is a backhanded way of saying it's all right to commit possible violence," concluded one misguided military investigator in a document obtained last month under the Freedom of Information Act." NBC reported that about four dozen TALON database entries on "suspicious incidents" were not about terrorism but about opposition to the Iraq war and military recruiting.

These misguided military forays into domestic surveillance harken back to Vietnam War-era abuses. This time, they are the result of a much broader intelligence-gathering effort by the military on U.S. soil. President Bush said last week, "We're not mining or trolling through the personal lives of millions of innocent Americans." But a 2004 survey by the General Accounting Office found 199 data-mining operations that collect information ranging from credit-card statements to medical records. The Defense Department had five programs on intelligence and counterterrorism.

The Defense Intelligence Agency, created in 1961 to provide foreign military intelligence, now uses "Verity K2" software to scan U.S. intelligence files and the Internet "to identify foreign terrorists or Americans connected to foreign terrorism activity," and "Inxight Smart Discovery" software to help identify patterns in databases. CIFA has reportedly contracted with Computer Sciences Corp. to buy identity-masking software, which could allow it to create fake websites and monitor legitimate U.S. sites without leaving clues that it had been there. The National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency is collecting data from 133 U.S. cities; intelligence sources told the Los Angeles Times that, when collection is completed, the agency would be able to identify occupants in each house, their nationality and even their political affiliation.

In 2002, the Defense Department launched the granddaddy of all data-mining efforts, Total Information Awareness, to trawl through all government and commercial databases available worldwide. In 2003, concerned about privacy implications, Congress cut its funding. But many of the projects simply transferred to other Defense Department agencies. Two of the most important, the Information Awareness Prototype System and Genoa II, moved to NSA headquarters.

The Pentagon argues that its monitoring of U.S. citizens is legal. "Contrary to popular belief, there is no absolute ban on intelligence" agencies collecting information on Americans or disseminating it, says a memo by Robert Noonan, deputy chief of staff for intelligence. Military intelligence agents can receive any information "from anyone, any time," Noonan wrote.

Throughout U.S. history, we have struggled to balance security concerns with the protection of individual rights, and a thick body of law regulates domestic law enforcement agencies' behavior. Congress should think twice before it lets the behemoth Defense Department into domestic law enforcement.

Imagine a land where bombs explode almost daily and children are killed by terrorists without conscience. On one side we find a people who suffered through the horror of slave-labor death camps; on the other side a people who suffered through a terrible war -- which they began when what they felt was their property was seized from them -- a terrible defeat and (for them) a terrible occupation. Now imagine those same peoples 15 years later, living side by side, peacefully.

This sounds like a pipe dream: The Middle East could never be this way, we think. But we do not need to imagine this land.

We are living in it.

One century after America's Civil War, the descendants of slaves daily faced the twin terrors of homicide and arson. Yet only 15 years after the rise of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., the back of segregation and neo-Confederate violence had been broken.

Can Palestinians likewise mount a successful, nonviolent movement toward peaceful co-existence with their former adversaries? In short, can history repeat itself?

How expensive would it be for us if it did not? America spends an estimated $3 billion a year in support of Israel. This support is justified because Israel is a democracy and our main ally in the region. Yet we also spend $2 billion supporting Israel's nondemocratic neighbor, Egypt. Billions more have been spent maintaining bases in Saudi Arabia, Kuwait and now Iraq. We justify these expenditures by surrendering to the serpentine excuses of realpolitik: We need the support of key figures and families in the region, we say, and so we have to work with them. Just as we once said of the Dixiecrats and other segregationist politicians in the American South.

We can transform this paradigm, as we did then, and at little cost to ourselves. We can utilize the experience of the civil rights movement -- which Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice knows all too well (her childhood friend was killed by an improvised explosive device in segregated Birmingham) -- to assist Palestinians in their stride toward peace. What we need is a Muslim Martin Luther King.

Many believe that leaders are born, not made, but programs to cultivate leadership and promote good will among men have been used successfully for generations. Oxford's Rhodes Scholarship is one such example. Its idea is to bring the best and brightest from the British Commonwealth (and beyond) to build strong ties among English-speaking peoples, and stronger ties to England. Founder Cecil Rhodes, pirate though he was, wished for there to be "an understanding between the three great powers" -- America, Britain and Germany -- that "will render war impossible."

What we recommend is a sister program for the Middle East. One could hold a competition for the 30 best young orators in the Palestinian diaspora. (King first gained prominence at age 26, and the Rhodes Scholarship is only for men and women under that age.) Send them to an American institution such as Stanford University, where they could study for the doctorate under Professor Clayborne Carson, director of the Martin Luther King Jr. Papers Project and historian of the civil rights movement and the Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee. Then, after they have spent several years studying the African American experience with special courses and lecturers, focusing especially on the efficacy of nonviolent direct action, send them back to their native lands.

This is no program of indoctrination. Indeed, it would be detrimental if American spy organizations were to infiltrate or interfere with the King scholars in any way: the scholars would lose all credibility at home. Just as King spoke out against Southern injustice (and American injustice in Vietnam), the King scholars must be free to criticize America and, it is to be expected, the occupation. They would not be able to lead the Arab street otherwise.

By bringing young leaders from the region, we would avoid disasters like the U.S. Army's flirtation with mathematician Ahmed Chalabi, a man who had no real roots in Iraq, but whom America still wished to enthrone as a new shah. The Chalabi experiment blew up in America's face like a roadside bomb.

The King scholarship program might cost only $2 million per year -- an endowment of perhaps $20 million could put it on its feet indefinitely. And, coupled with the application of "soft power," the export of American culture -- notably, hip-hop music, which serves both as a mechanism for promoting intercultural understanding and as a nonviolent channel for youthful aggression -- one could reasonably expect to see the flower of peace bloom in the desert of despair.

Two specific aspects of the civil rights movement would be most effective in resolving the Israeli-Palestinian conflict: first, the proper utilization of legal instruments as a way to wage a nonviolent campaign; second, the utilization of mosques to mobilize a nonviolent grassroots struggle. Mosques in the West Bank and Gaza can be used to promote peace over violence and terrorism, and the African American experience can teach Palestinians how to do this.

In "The Trial" by Franz Kafka, at one point two men stand outside a gate. One seeks to enter; the other seeks to prevent him from entering. Both men wait there for their entire lives. Though one is guard and the other the one guarded, both men are prisoners.

In game theory, the branch of mathematics made famous by "A Beautiful Mind," there is a paradox called the Prisoners' Dilemma. Each of two prisoners may believe it is in his best interests to harm the other, but one can mathematically prove that both men would be better off if they cooperated. A King scholars program might help us resolve the prisoners' dilemma that is the Middle East.

This is a utopian dream, perhaps. But another man dreamed, once, and we all know what became of that man's dream.

We are living it.

Does the conflict in Iraq amount to a civil war? In many ways, the public debate over this question is largely political. Calling Iraq a "civil war" implies yet another failure for the Bush administration and adds force to the question of whether U.S. troops still have a constructive role to play.

Politics aside, however, the definition of civil war is not arbitrary. For some -- and perhaps especially Americans -- the term brings to mind all-out historical conflicts along the lines of the U.S. or Spanish civil wars. According to this notion, there will not be civil war in Iraq until we see mass mobilization of sectarian communities behind more or less conventional armies.

But a more standard definition is common today:

1) Civil war refers to a violent conflict between organized groups within a country that are fighting over control of the government, one side's separatist goals, or some divisive government policy.

By this measure, the war in Iraq has been a civil war not simply since the escalation of internecine killings following the bombing of a Shiite shrine in Samarra in February, but at least since the United States handed over formal control to an interim Iraqi government in June 2004.

Here's why: Although the insurgents target the U.S. military, they are also fighting the Shiite-dominated Iraqi government and killing large numbers of Iraqis. There is little reason to believe that if the United States were suddenly to withdraw its forces, they would not continue their battle to control or shape the government.

Political scientists who study civil war have proposed various refinements to this rough definition to deal with borderline cases. One issue concerns how much killing has to occur -- and at what rate.

2) For a conflict to qualify as a civil war, most academics use the threshold of 1,000 dead, which leads to the inclusion of a good number of low-intensity rural insurgencies.

Current estimates suggest that more than 25,000 Iraqis have been killed in fighting since the U.S.-led invasion in March 2003 -- a level and rate of killing that is comparable to numerous other conflicts that are commonly described as civil wars, such as those in Lebanon (1975-1990) and Sri Lanka (beginning in 1983).

The organization -- or rather, disorganization -- of the warring communities in Iraq means that a large-scale conventional conflict along the lines of the U.S. Civil War is unlikely to develop. More probable is a gradual escalation of the current "dirty war" between neighborhood militias that have loose ties to national political factions and are fighting almost as much within sectarian lines as across them.

This is roughly what happened in Lebanon and at a lower level in Turkish cities in the late 1970s. Ethnic cleansing will occur not as a systematic, centrally directed campaign (as in Bosnia), but as a result of people moving to escape danger.

And there's another twist to the terminology:

3) If the conflict in Iraq becomes purely a matter of violence between Sunni and Shiite communities driven by revenge and hatred rather than by political goals, many political scientists would say that it is something other than civil war.

Almost no one, for example, calls the Hindu-Muslim violence in India a civil war.

A civil war has to involve attempts to grab power at the center of government or in a given region, or to use violence to change some major government policy.

In Iraq's case, however, the vacuum of power at the center means that communal violence will inevitably be tied to struggles for political power and control.

A final complication concerns the nature of international involvement. Some argue, for example, that the war in Bosnia should be seen as an interstate war rather than a civil war, since the Bosnian Serb forces were armed and directed largely by Belgrade. Post-Mobutu violence in Congo is often termed a civil war, even though fighters have been closely tied to armies from neighboring states.

4) A conflict may be both a civil and an interstate war at the same time.

The Vietnam War, for instance, clearly comprised both a civil war in the South and an interstate war involving the North, the South and the United States.

Iraq may be moving in this direction. The United States and Britain are already openly involved, and such neighboring countries as Iran and Syria are more covertly involved. Not that it matters to the people dying there, but the next debate here may turn on whether what is already a civil war in Iraq should be viewed as an interstate war as well.

It is time to acknowledge that the international community's strategy on Zimbabwe has failed.

Robert G. Mugabe's regime has survived even as the economy deteriorates further (unemployment is above 70 percent, and gross domestic product will decline another 7 percent this year) and personal freedom suffers greater assaults (the recent "drive out the rubbish" campaign left 700,000 people homeless).

Indeed, with the opposition Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) on the verge of collapse - following a bitter fight over whether to boycott the recent Senate elections and after years of sustained government pressure - the regime has a stronger grasp on power than ever. Doddering though he may be, Mr. Mugabe, who recently turned 82, has foiled the pressure of the United States and Britain and the quiet diplomacy of his neighbors in southern Africa.

Predictions of imminent change still crop up in Western newspapers on the occasion of every new crisis in Zimbabwe. But these predictions have not come to bear, and they likely will not. So long as Mr. Mugabe reigns, his Zimbabwe African National Union-Patriotic Front (ZANU-PF) regime will survive.

The international community tried to change things. It embarked on a strategy of concerted economic and diplomatic pressure to weaken the Mugabe regime, trying to force it to either back down or submit to the democratic opposition. It's clear that strategy has failed.

It is, therefore, time to focus international attention on the prospect of Zimbabwe's only genuine political opening in the years ahead: the exit of Mr. Mugabe, whether through retirement or death, which will leave the regime internally and externally vulnerable.

Internally, the ZANU-PF regime without Mr. Mugabe at the helm will be uniquely susceptible in an election. In sub-Saharan Africa, opposition candidates have won post-transitional elections only 5 percent of the time against incumbents but 33 percent of the time against regimes' designated successors.

The most important reason for that is the incumbent's exit removes the regime's glue. The regime fractures into competing factions and is left with a substantially reduced capacity to repress the political opposition and rig an election.

In Kenya, after President Daniel T. arap Moi, and in Ghana, after President Jerry J. Rawlings, the regimes did not - could not - resort to all the dirty tactics that they certainly would have used had the incumbents run. In turn, these political openings have tended to galvanize the fractured opposition to successfully cooperate.

A ZANU-PF that is deeply unpopular, badly fractured among ethnic groups and between moderates and hard-liners (the expulsion of the information minister, Jonathan Moyo, is the beginning) and facing a reinvigorated opposition will not likely be able to effectively rig elections, let alone win the popular vote.

It will be critical, then, that presidential elections be held within a year of Mr. Mugabe's exit, before the regime has too much time to consolidate. If Mr. Mugabe's exit does not occur within that window before the 2008 elections, then international, and particularly regional, pressure will be crucial in forcing early elections.

Externally, Mr. Mugabe's exit may prompt genuine regional pressure. Analysts have long emphasized that international pressure requires the support of Zimbabwe's neighbors - especially South Africa - that have significant political and economic leverage. But to the great frustration of Western governments, southern African countries have thus far refused to publicly challenge Mr. Mugabe.

Their reluctance has much to do with Mr. Mugabe's status as a hero of Zimbabwe's anti-colonial struggle and a champion of liberation struggles elsewhere. Southern African nations will have much greater political room to apply real pressure on Zimbabwe when its leader lacks such credentials.

Simultaneously, the prospect of an altogether different level of violence might shake the complacency of southern African nations. Zimbabwe's implosion has not, thus far, been entirely bad for its neighbors. They have benefited from the elimination of economic competition and from the influx of professionals, and they have retained confidence that Mr. Mugabe can keep control.

But there is a real danger, if a post-Mugabe Zimbabwe is not handled adroitly, that elements of the opposition, disaffected war veterans and youth militia and losers in the ZANU-PF factional battle will take up arms and plunge Zimbabwe into civil war.

This specter should push neighboring countries to step up their efforts, especially to press the post-Mugabe regime to hold new presidential elections and encourage moderate elements within ZANU-PF.

Notwithstanding its occasional fulminations against Zimbabwe, the United States has failed in its efforts to unseat Mr. Mugabe's regime. The United States should focus now on his eventual exit by helping the MDC to overcome its bitter infighting and engaging Zimbabwe's neighbors, especially South Africa, in vigorous diplomacy, pushing them to prepare for the occasion.

The stakes could not be higher, for if the post-Mugabe period is the first genuine opportunity for political change in Zimbabwe, it may also be the last for some time.